One Night
by x.Dancing.Queen.x
Summary: When Simon spots Gemma with an Indian, he looses his head and decides that he will get revenge, in the most scandalous manner possible. Consequences are naught but echoes of perilous deeds; he will have her, if only for one night. Mature Content.
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks for clicking on my story, and enjoy!**

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Simon Middleton wandered into the poor district of London, having just been adminoshed by his mother for longing after Gemma Doyle. She was tired of his sadness, and had promptly told him to find a suitable wife before she did it for him. Embarrassment had driven him from his own club, and he only wished to have some time alone, without thoughts of her muddling his brain or his mother's shrill voice in his ears.

Spotting a filthy looking bar, he pushed his way in, attracting many hateful and curious glances from the slums. Many muttered behind their hands, eyes turned menacingly in his direction. Ignoring their cold stares, he took a seat alone at the bar and asked for the strongest drink that was in stock, recieving a knowing glance from the bartender.

Simon had forgotten that others had had their hearts broken as well.

Looking sluggishly at his surroundings while his drink was being prepared, he spotted a flash of red in the very corner of the room, bringing back painful memories. The glimpse of Gemma was swift and strange, for he could not find her for several minutes.

Telling himself that it was impossible for his Gemma to even come within a mile of this place, he continued to scan the thinning crowd until a waterfall of fiery curls caught his eye, and he stood abruptly, knocking the stool that he had been sitting on to the ground.

There was nobody else with hair like that.

Nobody else possessed those fleeting green eyes that had captured his heart.

The bartender approached with his drink, followins his gaze curiously to the beautiful girl standing at the back of the club. She wore simple clothes, probably 'borrowed' from an unsuspecting maid. Why would pure, wonderful Gemma be in such a place?

Simon nearly choked on his drink as he saw the Indian that she was standing dangerously close to. He spluttered into the somewhat clean cup, looking at the scene in amazment.

"Yep. The things you'll see down in 'ere, eh?" The plump man spoke carelessly, unaware of the scandal that this could cause. He returned to polishing glasses, taking Simon's without a word to refill as he swallowed the glass down, wishing that he could wash away what he was seeing with alchohol.

Gemma leaned in close to the heathen, who he could not make out clearly. He stared in bewilderment as their lips met, and could not find the strength to pull his eyes away even as they deepened the kiss, groping at eachother shamelessly.

Suddenly a blinding rage leapt from Simon's stomach, mixed with emvy and bitterness. He could not digest the fact that Gemma Doyle had refused him, the most wanted suitor in London, all for an _Indian. _

She touched him passion, and Simon wished furiously that he was the one holding her in his arms, pressing her up against the wall and ravaging her neck with his lips.

How could she do such unspeakable things in the plain view of others? Then again, he realized, who here would know her wealthy family and their reputation, let alone know how to find them or why they should bother to inform anybody about this? Unable to watch any longer, he turn away and picked up the stool, sitting down in a trance. He could feel a monster uncoiling insided him, one that had been born the day that the cold, unfeeling letter carrying Gemma's refusal had arrived.

The alchohol only fed it, egged his dark side on wildly. The night wore on and Simon continued to down drinks while sneaking glances at the couple. People flooded out of the bar more and more quickly as they rushed to get out and back to their unknowing families.

His vision grew fuzzy, and the bartender stopping trying to hear his orders through the slur that marred his speech; he simply opted to pick a different drink every time.

Finally, the two broke apart, Gemma looking regretful as she explained to the Indian that she needed to get home. He too looked saddened, and tried to follow her out of the bar protectively, but she stopped him, no doubt afraid of being seen with him. Simon prowled while she convinced him to leave first, and he relucantly sauntered out, leaving Gemma as one of the last tenants in the bar.

She glanced around hastily, giving the bartender an endearing smile that he returned, though the effect wasn't nearly the same seeing as his teeth were blackened and crooked. She started to leave, then spun on her heel and walked quickly to the bar, tossing the man a shilling. He smiled wider and bowed his head, deciding not to mention the gentleman watching her in the corner.

Simon had slunk away as she approached, eager not to be seen. As she hurried out the door, he returned to his stool and pondered the night's events. Briefly he had the urge to confront Gemma, but a more sinister and menacing plan formed in his mind.

Gemma would be involved in more of a scandal than she could imagine.

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**Okay, nothing naughty in this chapter, but the next should contain some M rated worthy content. Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Gemma Doyle slipped into the unmaskably filthy club with caution, keeping her head down and her flaming curls hiden under a cap. Simon waited at the bar, his drink untouched.

He wanted to be fully alert for this experience, and the bartender's motto was 'buy or fly.' He inconspicuously watched as she made her way to an even darker corner than the night before. Obviously the girl had realized how easily she could be spotted. Hiding her rich hair was a smart move; if she had thought of it sooner, Simon would not have noticed her in the first place.

His eyes stayed on her as she looked around uneasily, yet with an eager look, unknowing of the effect that her seductive expression had on men. She smiled though, as another figure entered the bar and joined her in the enclosed space.

Simon did not wish to witness their actions again, so he tore his eyes from the scene and turned to the expectant bartender, who looked as if he was considering kicking him out anyway. With a loose smile, Simon sipped at the drink and eventually downed the whole glass in an effort to keep his gaze from wandering to the disgusting scene that his Gemma was willingly participating in.

However, his mind was doing quite a good job of imagining it without his bidding. Anger rose once again, flushing his skin with heat as he carefully tweaked his plan for revenge into perfection.

He made dull conversation with what he supposed was a regular; the ratty man looked quite comfortable on his rickety seat, and the bartender did not bother to ask for his order, just brought a plain looking bottle every time that the man gulped down alarmingly fast. Simon was unaware that he had been that man only two nights ago, sitting in a pathetic stupour at the bar and surveying everything in it with glazed eyes.

After a time the man fell silent, simply ignoring Simon's efforts to speak to him. He sat with his hand on an empty bottle, and Simon looked away as he stiffened suddenly, then dropped abruptly onto the counter. Wondering if the man was dead, Simon ordered yet another bottle of poison and drank it slowly, biding his time.

Finally he looked towards Gemma, eager to find her enticing body in his sight once again. But she wasn't there.

He leaped from his spot, looking around like a crazed wolf for his escaped prey. Where was his Gemma? Curses richoetued around his now drunken mind as he searched for her, moving towards the door. She was obviously gone, along with the Indian.

Pushing angrily though the door and ignoring the bartender's angry shouts for payment, Simon emerged onto the street, almost trampling a squatting figure with his momentum.

Why hadn't he noticed her leaving? Why had he drank so much? Looking back, he was suddenly sure that it had been more than two bottles, the rest forgotten. He raced down the street on instinct, swinging his head from side to side insanely. His legs pumped wildly and sweat leaped to his pores, making him glad that he too had borrowed a servant's light clothes.

His lungs burned but he ignored the pain as a loosely clothed but obviously shapely figure appeared in his vision, then turned into a dark alley. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins as he neared the opening, thinking of how he would exact his revenge. It would be te most widely known disgrace in the Doyle family's history!

A street lamp illuminated the dirt before him just enough to see a pair of pale feet running in front of him, but then Simon's own shadow was thrown in from of him and he lost sight of her. Lunging forward animalistically, Simon grabbed at the air until his grasping fingers found living flesh. He crashed to the ground just as his digits closed around her leg, taking her down to the earth with him.

She was thrashing wildly, and he fought to gain a hold on her as she kicked and screamed. Finding her knee, he grabbed her by that and pulled her slim figure towards him, recieving a vicious kick to the face as he did so. Blood swelled to his cheek as he roughly gained control, finding his fists beating on her body as he did so.

Pain, anger and alchohol mixed in a dangerous cocktail that wiped the former plan from his mind. That inferior little prank would not revenge him properly.

He would take matters into his own hands. Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he squeezed as hard as he could until she cried out in pain, elicting a grunt of satisfaction from his bruising lips. With effort he took hold of her other arm, pinning it above her head with the other one.

He let his lower body weigh down on hers and constricted his grip on her even tighter as she attempted to kick him in the soft spot. Looking wildly around for something to subdue her, his maddened gaze landed on a rusty old pocketknife laying just in sight. Risking retaliation, he let go of her wrist and reached for it, getting a badly aimed punch in his gut.

His pain was revenged, though, as he brought the knife to Gemma's face, holding it against her nose in a silent threat. She swallowed and he watched her throat strain, smiling as he saw her fear grow.

"Relax, Gemma." he rasped, finally seeing the shock of recognition in her features. Simon reveled in the skip of her heart that he felt against his own chest, reminding him of their closeness.

"Simon? What in bloody-" he cut her off with a sharp hiss, looking with hunger at her full, pink lips, the colour of rose petals and parted slightly as she panted into the night air. Without a single pause to consider what he was doing, Simon smashed his lips into hers, forcefully melding his rough, chapped ones with her heavenly mouth.

She resisted, grunting and trying to scream, only to be cut off by him time and time again. She lashed out, but he held the knife to her side, all the while feeling her body with his other hand.

"Sorry, dear."

She continued to make noises of protest, but he silenced her by pressing the tip of the blade through her clothing and into her soft flesh, though not hard enough to cripple her movement. She whimpered, suddenly submissive. He slid his hand up her shirt, ignoring her squirming and shifting.

Roughly grabbing her small, perfect breast, he squeezed it as his lips continued to work against hers. The knife lay beside them, forgotten for the moment. Gemma's fear was too great; she would not attempt an escape if it meant death.

She did not kiss him back though, and struggled under his weight as he moved his other hand to her cheek, cupping the soft skin. Simon cut her dress apart with vigour, kneading her breasts with heavy lust. She cried silently, tears of hate and confusion sliding down her now dirt dusted cheeks and into the earth. His passion grew as her skin became raw from his fingers.

An uncomforable heat was brewing in his core and he could already feel his penis hardening at the sight of her exposed skin. She felt it pressing into her thigh and gasped, suddenly knowing what Simon's intentions were.

"No, please..." she cried, begging for forgiveness pathetically.

"This could've happened another way," he breathed into mouth, feeling her shudder at he taste of alchohol.

"You could've just...said yes."

With this last word he shed his own shirt, moving his harsh lips to her hardened nipple, imagining that it was pert like that not because of the cool air, but because of his touch. She earched her back in an attempt to throw him off, but he only bit down on her, licking furiously at the tender skin, kissing her perfection.

She gasped for breath. Simon looked at her exposed legs, his gaze gradually drifting upwards to the alluring triangle of dark hair that covered her centre. She writhed and twisted as he stared shamelessly at the curls, then held in a scream as he placed his heated palms on the inside of her thighs, pushing her legs apart.

Simon stared into her opening, noting that the pink folds looked damp. He immediatly pushed his face into her, opening his mouth and using his tongue to massage her insides. She was making horrible sounds now, and he found that they aroused him greatly.

He rose from her, lower face covered in liquid that had seeped out totally against Gemma's will. She refused to look at him, squeezing her eyes shut as if wishing him and her current situation away. Simon found that her naked body was overbearing, and ran his tongue along her skin, trailing saliva up to her neck before sucking at it. She barely struggled now, losing strength faster than before.

He positioned himself above her and placed his hands on her waist, his knees keeping him up on either side. She stared down at his erection, frightened from his size.

"No...."

He grinned at her, taking in the way her beautiful mane spread around her head.

"Yes."

He thrust into her with all his might, pushing down until he met resistance. Taking this as her stubborn nature, he grew angry and pushed inwards even harder, breaking through the barriers that kept him from her.

He continued until his penis was fully submerged, eyes focused on his hard erection moving into her vagina. She was screaming in agony, her body convulsing. He knew that it hurt for women, but had no consideration in his drunken state.

Immediately he began pumping in and out, pressing down onto her with his weight. He kissed her passionately. Thrusting quickly into her, Simon groaned in ecstacy while she wailed in pain and whimpered. She was so tight around him, clenching involuntarily around him every time. Pressure built and he jerked with release and came heavily into her, slapping and grabbing at her shoulders and torso.

He spilled into her, not bothering to pull out. She cried with shame and agony, only making her appearance even more ravishing. Simon quieted her with another stab from the knife, and she muffled herself but only weeped harder.

Simon lay there on top of her for a moment, licking the salty teard from her face, kissing her skin. She turned her head away, staring into the darkness, empty and broken.


End file.
